


love pours down

by thescrewtapedemos



Series: Harlequin ROME-ance AU [1]
Category: Electronic Dance Music RPF
Genre: Ancient Rome, Implications of Slavery, Implied/Referenced Sexual Harassment, M/M, harlequin romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-09-03 15:36:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8719270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thescrewtapedemos/pseuds/thescrewtapedemos
Summary: Life is good by the sea.





	

**Author's Note:**

> title from feel so close by calvin harris lmao.  
> enjoy xoxo

The villa is perfect and Porter is almost ashamed of how much he loves it. 

It’s not his. It’s strictly Adam’s - Porter might be freed but he’s still nothing close to Adam’s status. But Adam keeps nothing from him, would give him everything if propriety weren’t still a necessary concern. Porter doesn’t resent it. 

The ocean is at the door, the beaches are broad. It smells of clean sea air and there are always fresh dates and olives, always fresh fish. The people that live nearby are kind and if they know of Porter’s past life they say nothing of it and he can’t read it in their faces. Adam stands taller here, less cautious, less guarded, excited to live and direct the farm attached to the villa and to visit the markets every weekend for the debates. Porter loves him, loves him as he couldn’t when he wasn’t free. 

There’s no fear and Porter still feels as though his heart is missing a beat when he reaches instinctively down into himself after it. He still catches himself checking over his shoulder when he reaches after the food in their stores like it’s forbidden, though he has no master now. 

It’s happening less and less. 

The nights are warm this close to the sea, as well. It’s something he has yet to become accustomed to, waking damp with sweat, tucked into Adam’s side. The shivering aloneness of his old pallet is a nightmare fast fading but this strange new reality has yet to settle into its place and he’s left feeling like he’s wandering a dream. 

He shakes himself, turns back to the scroll in his hands. He’s been teaching himself to read, slow and painstaking. There are slaves that know how and they help but it’s something Porter’s determined to do on his own. 

He wants to write, maybe. There are so many things in his head, _beautiful things_ , things he wants so badly to share with the world. Things he’s told Adam about, in some small parts. 

Adam’s expression when he’d done so had been… gratifying. A certain astonishment, genuine interest. It leaves a sweet taste in Porter’s mouth when he thinks of it. 

A door slams toward the front of the villa and Porter jumps and then Adam’s voice is singing out and Porter’s scrambling to his feet, the scroll fluttering to the floor at his feet. His leg is most of the way to asleep, his hair and toga have to be an absolute _mess_ but he stumbles out of the room anyway in the direction of Adam’s voice. 

He’s singing, a little hoarse with what must be the dust of the fields. He likes to tend them alongside their workers and it’s another thing about him that shines brightly in Porter’s chest. His fairness, his willingness to work. Adam is a good husband. Porter is so immeasurably lucky. 

Adam’s disrobing casually when Porter skids into the room and he freezes so abruptly his momentum nearly tips him over. 

Adam’s arm lifts and the muscles of his back shift, shining with sweat, and Porter can’t look away. It’s mesmerizing. Abruptly his cheeks are flaming, he’s breathless, his stomach pulling tight with desire. It’s so sudden and he thinks he makes some noise, some soft wanting sound because Adam’s turning to look at him and Porter drags his eyes away hurriedly. 

“Psihi mou,” Adam exclaims and then he’s reaching for Porter, his hands catching under Porter’s arms and he’s being lifted. He can’t stop the squeak of surprise coming out and then he’s laughing and Adam’s spinning in a little circle with him before depositing him back to earth. Porter’s breathless again and flushed but it’s not only want now. It’s happiness. 

“I smell like sweat and donkeys,” Adam says and he’s still grinning but it’s softer now. Soft eyes on Porter’s face, gentle like his palm when it comes up to cup Porter’s cheek. “I want to wash, but will you take dinner with me in our room after?” 

“Of course,” Porter says and his smile is pulling his cheeks so tight they ache. 

Adam’s smile flashes and then he’s turning, walking away. He’s still naked and Porter watches him go, the shift of the muscles in his back and legs, the power of his arms and the bearing of his neck. 

He shakes himself, breathes out unsteadily. 

He’s no maiden, blushing and innocent. He’s known the feeling of being taken by a man. It had not been the pleasure he’d hoped and the manhood in question had been… measurably less than Adam’s. 

Still, the desire pools in his stomach and groin. Pulls him tight and hot and hard, makes him shake when he thinks of being taken by Adam in such a way, the joining and fullness. Moving together, truly joined in all the ways of the heart and soul and finally body. Of reaching climax with him, of Adam’s release in him. 

He thinks Adam would be kind to him, kind as the others hadn’t been. He thinks Adam loves him, as Porter loves Adam, and perhaps that would be enough. 

That, and a little oil perhaps.

\--

He’s abandoned many of the duties of his previous life. The cleaning, the cooking, the gardening are no longer his to do unless he chooses to. And he does, sometimes. The days are long and he’s always loved the freshness of gardening, the simple joy of food, the satisfaction of a well-polished table or couch.

The wine jug is something else. 

It had been the way they’d met, at one of his old master’s parties. Porter, head down, pouring wine and hoping to escape soon enough to sleep a full night. A guest too far into his cup, his hands wandering up Porter’s thigh and he’d been so tense with the need to run- 

And then someone had intervened. Someone with a booming voice, a casual remark with just enough bite to carry weight, a laugh that still makes Porter feel so breathlessly safe. He’d been let go and when he’d turned to see his savior it’d been Adam that smiled down at him. 

He breathes in, reaches for the jug of wine and simple cups and waves away the questioning glances from those in the kitchen. It’s his right, if he wants it. 

He does this because he wants to. Because he wants to be the one to bring wine to Adam, who had fought for him, who had won him his freedom and loves him so peacefully. He wants to do this. 

Adam’s waiting for him when he steps into their rooms. He’s clean and damp, clothed again and Porter’s filled with relief and disappointment in equal measure. Relief that he’s restricted again to imagination. Disappointment because he… he _wants_. 

Adam smiles when he sees him. It still sends Porter’s heart beating so fast. 

“You know you don’t have to do this,” Adam says and it’s quiet. An intimate voice. Porter nudges their door closed and shuffles his feet for a moment. 

“I want to,” he replies and Adam laughs, beckons him over to the couch. There’s a table waiting, dinner laid out for them. Porter glances at Adam again and blushes at the expression on his face. 

It’s hungry. Hungry like Porter has seen on his face before, though veiled. It’s veiled no longer, fierce and wanting, so powerful and Porter feels himself stir in response. It brings fire to his cheeks again and he ducks his head and sets out their cups. 

The wine is so loud in the silence of the room, splashing into the pottery of the cups. 

Adam’s hand settles at his waist and Porter jolts. He’s almost too late in setting the jug of wine aside, almost overfills the cups. His hands shake as he takes them in hand, turns to Adam. The hands slides down and Porter hauls in a breath that’s impossibly loud when they meet bare skin, cup the back of his thigh. 

“Sit,” Adam murmurs. Porter turns his head away without thinking, stares down at the wine sloshing in the cups with the force of his trembling. 

A hand catches his cheek. Such a big hand and yet so gentle, always so gentle with him. His head is guided up and he meets Adam’s eyes with trepidation. 

Adam is still smiling so gently. 

“Sit, agapitós,” he murmurs and Porter sits. 

Adam is laid out on the couch like a statue of a deity and Porter thinks a quick prayer for forgiveness for that thought but the comparison remains. He’s glowing in the dimness of the evening, the wetness of his bath still shining on his body, radiant in his strength and power and kindness. Porter can’t look away and his hands are lax when Adam takes a cup from them, drinks deeply and then sets it aside on the floor. 

He doesn’t look away from Porter. 

“You’re loved, you know this?” he asks and Porter nods, so hard it jolts him and sloshes the wine in his cup. He brings it to his lips for something to do with his hands and the taste of wine spreading heavy and delicious over his tongue almost soothes him. 

Adam laughs and takes that cup from Porter’s hands as well, sets it next to his own. 

“I won’t hurt you, peristéri,” he murmurs and Porter feels his cheeks heat even further, looks down at his lap. 

“I’m…” he pauses and shifts and the nerves aren’t so bad anymore but the embarrassment is growing. Embarrassment at his own anxiety and how it makes him look like he doesn’t trust Adam, the one he trusts above anything. “It’s… I’m nervous.” 

Adam laughs and then his hands are on his hips and he’s being urged down into Adam’s side. It’s easy, natural to him after so many nights spent with his cheek against Adam’s chest, Adam’s arm around him like an anchor. It feels safe and the nerves drop away like nothing. 

“I’ll wait for you as long as you need,” Adam murmurs above him and he nods, presses his face into the fold of Adam’s toga. It smells of him, clean sweat and the musk that pulls in the pit of his stomach. The image of Adam is still stuck in him, the clean lines of his body, the strength in him and- 

He presses his face harder into Adam’s chest. He’s stirring, his cock swelling with the thought and it’s a little overwhelming and he shifts again, a rocking motion against nothing. 

“I want to,” he murmurs and he thinks it’s impossible Adam’s heard him but then the arm around him is going tight, Adam’s shifting. Suddenly Porter’s being lifted bodily again so they’re looking at each other. He hangs in Adam’s grip and it’s the safest he’s ever felt. 

Adam’s eyes are shining in the evening sun, his face gilded by the golden sunset through their window. He stares at Porter like he’s a precious treasure and it’s overwhelming. 

“Do you trust me?” Adam asks softly and the words drop from his lips so sweetly Porter’s nodding before he can even think. He does trust Adam, trusts him beyond sanity. This, this soft-lit moment in his embrace, the taste of wine on his tongue… it’s easy. 

“I trust you,” he answers when Adam still waits. His tongue is clumsy. 

Adam’s mouth presses to his and he sighs, reaches up to tangle his fingers in Adam’s hair. It’s so short, almost indecently so, but it looks impossibly good on him and feels so soft against Porter’s fingers. For a long moment it’s just the press of mouths moving together, soft lips and then a flash of hot tongue and Porter gasps. Adam presses forward with it and his hand comes around to Porter’s knee, guides it across his lap. 

Suddenly Porter’s straddling Adam’s thighs. 

There’s a hand at his waist, another skating up his thigh and leaving a trail of fire as it goes. He gasps again and his breath is coming too fast and he’s arching into the touch, it feels so natural. For a moment he loses himself, forces his legs wider, wantonly, trying to communicate his need for more of Adam’s touch. 

Adam’s eyes are on him when he regains his senses a little a moment later, a hand cupping the back of his thigh just shy of the swell of his ass. The heat in that gaze sears him and he can’t stand the want rolling through him, the deep desire for _more_. He’s hard with it and it aches deep in him, the mindless need to rut himself to climax surging up within him until he can hardly think. 

“I want,” Porter says thickly and Adam’s gaze flares. His hands don’t move for a long moment and then the hand at his waist is sliding up and over Porter’s chest, catching in the fabric of his toga and pulling it askew. 

It slips down his shoulder and Porter watches Adam’s gaze catch on that. He can feel it, can trace the path his eyes take up his shoulder to his throat in lines of heat and the desperate need to be touched. It almost distracts him from the tugging of Adam’s hand at the fasten of his toga and he only notices when the cool air hits his skin as it falls away to pool around his waist. 

“Is this alright?” Adam asks softly and Porter hauls in a breath. 

He’s not scared, he realizes dimly. Only wanting, desperate for touch and pleasure and _Adam_. 

“Please,” he says softly and the toga is being pulled away and Porter bucks without giving himself permission to. The evening air hits his cock and his eyelids flutter. 

“Eísai ómorfos,” Adam breathes and the hand on Porter’s thigh squeezes once, hard, and then slides up to cup Porter’s ass. It’s gentle but Porter pants with it, presses back into Adam’s hand without thinking about it. The touch feels so good, like nothing he’s known. For a moment he’s thinking wildly of running back to the kitchen, retrieving oils. He wants to do this. He wants to give himself to Adam. Wants to have Adam so deep in him. 

He’s just trying to sort out how to climb off of Adam when Adam slides down the couch. His hands shift down to Porter’s thighs again, now squeezing more than cupping. Firm hold, so strong it shakes through Porter again. 

He doesn’t understand for a long moment, stays on his knees now straddling Adam’s stomach and staring down at him. He doesn’t understand the position until Adam’s head bows forward and his lips meet the head of Porter’s cock. 

It’s a chaste kiss, barely more than what he and Adam share in the public markets, but he _wails_ with it. Adam’s grip on his thighs becomes necessary because his hips are trying to jerk forward without his permission, trying to press after the brief spark of pleasure. 

Adam laughs and glances up at Porter. His eyes are dark and hot and sweet and Porter reaches out with numb fingers that catch in his hair. Adam’s hair tilts into his hand and Porter’s breath catches on a moan that’s pleasure and love in one. 

“Is this alright?” Adam asks and Porter’s breath catches again. 

It takes him long moments to draw himself together enough for words. Moments longer to find the words he wants to say. 

“I’ve never,” he manages eventually and then his voice fails him. 

Adam looks at him for a moment that seems to go on and on though it can’t be more than a second. Abruptly his hands are tightening on Porter even more, so tight it’s edging into delicious ache, before carefully loosening again. 

“You’ve never had someone’s mouth like this?” Adam asks, slow and careful. 

Porter shakes his head. 

Adam looks away and breathes in, hard and sharp and almost angry, though when he looks back at Porter his face is soft once again. 

“Would you like it now?” he asks, even more carefully. 

Porter imagines it for a moment – Adam’s mouth around him, the tightness, the pleasure. His hips buck without his permission and he gasps for breath, with the want for touch, the urgent _need_ to come burning low in his gut. His thighs are tight with it, his stomach heavy, his cock aching dully. Desire is clawing deep in him and his voice trembles when he finally manages to force it out. 

“Please,” he says. 

Somehow he’s expecting Adam to respond, he’s waiting for words, but Adam just dips forward again and abruptly Porter’s cock is sliding into his mouth and it’s so hot and so _wet_ and Porter cries out with it. 

He tries bucking forward, mindlessly thrusting against Adam’s grip on him. He can’t, can’t fight Adam’s hands holding him in place and so he settles for rolling his hips forward shallowly. It’s not enough but all he can manage. He’ll have bruises on his thighs tomorrow and he presses forward against Adam’s hands anyway. 

Adam takes him deeper, deeper. Impossibly, Porter can’t believe it and then he’s pausing. Holding position for a moment and Porter sobs for air. 

He can feel his finish coming and it’s shamefully soon. It’s almost enough to pull him from the pleasure, when he realizes that his climax is so soon that his cock is already twitching on Adam’s tongue. And then Adam’s pulling back a little bit, sucking him back down, head _bobbing on Porter’s dick_ and thought is gone from him. 

He’s almost animal, hands tight in Adam’s hair, trying to urge him faster and deeper. His voice is leaving him without permission, wordless pleading noises. Adam goes, sucks him deeper and deeper and Porter’s eyes are rolling back, muscles straining with the futile effort to restrain himself. There’s nothing in him but the desperate need to come. 

Adam hums and Porter looks down, blinks blurry tears from his eyes to see Adam looking back at him, cheeks hollowed around Porter’s cock.

His orgasm crashes through him so abruptly for a moment he blacks out. 

He comes back to himself so exhausted it’s almost comical. He’s shaking with it, muscles loose, skin wet with sweat. His hands tremble when he forces them to unlock from Adam’s hair. 

Adam hums a final time around his cock and Porter sobs. 

He slips from Adam’s mouth gently but he still shakes. He feels wrung out, flooded with hazy happiness. 

“Was it good?” Adam asks softly and Porter gives a trembling laugh. 

“You’re a marvel,” he murmurs and tries clumsily to edge back, to lay down with Adam. Adam laughs and then he’s lifting Porter again, moving his leg and sliding fluidly out from under him to stand. It’s almost comical, how steady he is compared to Porter. 

He’s hooking an arm under Porter’s knees a moment later, though. Lifting him with ease and Porter giggles dumbly at the rush of vertigo. Sleep is forcing through him and it’s so hard to fight and he doesn’t even want to. He wants to stay in Adam’s arms. So safe.


End file.
